


wrapped around your finger

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (you cant), Alive Georgie Denbrough, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bill is in Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, THIS IS JUST A MESS TBFH, bill is forever in love with stan. change my mind, but hes not rlly mentioned, but nothing dirty, canon universe kinda tho, i just wish i executed it better, its just sad honestly, just sad, like. same events just no it, not even angsty, this is so horrible but..a good concept, uhhh mention of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: Bill Denbrough would happily admit to anyone that he was whipped for Stan Uris. He was completely wrapped around Stan’s finger; he would follow him anywhere. Now, he wants to prolong Stan’s time left in Derry for as long as possible - and what better way to do that than a romantic midnight adventure? - Based on “Wrapped Around Your Finger” by 5 Seconds of Summer.





	wrapped around your finger

Bill stood in the backyard, two stories below Stan’s window. The midnight sky was painted hues of blue and purple that all failed to be darker than the foreboding Bill felt in his chest, knowing tomorrow morning the boy he loved would be gone; it was littered with bright, twinkling stars, small beacons of hope.

He bent down and picked up a rock. It was jagged, but the sides that made up two parallel ends were smooth and cool. He tossed it over his head, and it hit the siding of Stan’s house - soon to be old house - just to the right of his window with a smack that was just a wavelength under too loud.

He threw pebbles and small stones instead, bouncing them off of the glass pane. His tongue poked out in concentration until he halted, seeing the curtains move.

In seconds they were pulled back to reveal a beautiful, sculpted face and golden brown curls that Bill could just barely make out from his spot on the ground. In minutes the window was being lifted and Stan was throwing his leg over one side of the house, the other left in his room. Bill watched him carefully shimmy down the tree that was so conveniently close by, and wondered why they’d never done this before.

Probably because Bill had never told Stan he loved him before, but here he was, about to do it and then set off on an adventure with the little time they had left together.

“Hey,” He whispered to Stan as he helped him out of the tree, calloused hands holding tightly to softer ones before letting go as Stan gracefully leapt down. “Ready to go?”

“Depends,” Stan quipped, but Bill could tell by his anticipated, mischievous grin that he was, “Where are we going?”

“That’s a secret,” Bill winked, and took Stan’s hand again to lead him over the Uris’s fence and back to his car - but not before admiring the way the moonlight glanted off of Stan’s face. He silently compared Stan to an angel in disguise - and maybe he was.

Bill hopped the fence, and then Stan, and Bill’s whole life seemed suddenly like a postcard.  _Having fun in Bill-Land, come visit soon!_

“Seriously,” Stan giggled as he climbed into the passenger seat of Bill’s old truck that he always swore he hated, “Where are we going?”

“I have a few places in mind,” Bill nodded, buckling his seat belt and waiting for Stan to do the same before backing out from his parking space - his headlights off so as not to bring attention to them. The soft hum of the engine was enough to give them away - he didn’t need the Uris’s knowing he was kidnapping their perfect son for the night, then he may really never see Stan again. He didn’t know if that was something his heart could take. “You look like an angel in the moonlight, by the way, in case you weren’t aware.”

“I wasn’t,” Stan barely laughed, and Bill could envision the blush that spread across the tops of his cheeks but kept his eyes on the road. He’d have plenty of time to memorize what he hadn’t already of Stan’s face (though he was sure he knew it all by heart by now).

“The beach at the lake,” Bill spoke up after they’d lapsed into a few minutes of silence, “I hope you don’t mind me having you out all night, but I’d like to get in all my time with you before-,”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Stan cut him off, his voice quick and cutting before he softened, “I just want to be with you tonight, if this is all we’re going to get.”

“Right,” Bill pursed his lips and tapped on the wheel as he stopped for the red light, looking over to Stan to find him looking back with wide eyes. The red shone on his face, and Bill hadn’t considered that it was his color before then. Stan didn’t wear a lot of red, but damn, it looked good on him. “Me too.”

Neither of them flicked on the radio to fill the silence - as it was never deafening with them. Neither ever felt the need to fill it with anything but the other’s presence and the truck’s hum that Bill called a purr and Stan called ugly. It was always comfortable, and if the seats were close enough, perhaps Stan would have laid his head on Bill’s shoulder and closed his eyes and pretended that this small piece of heaven never had to end. But all good things do, they both realized, as Bill pulled into the parking spaces laid out before the lake. It was out of town, they were about forty minutes away from Derry, but that made it perfect. They were away from everything that held them back, away from Stan’s parents that wanted to pack him up in a box and move him across the country and away from everything he’s ever known, and away from Bill’s inhibitions that prevented him from doing things like kissing Stan, and holding his hands, and telling him how he really felt. None of that mattered now.

Bill looked to Stan, who was already staring at him. “I’ve got blankets in the back, and a list of my plans, if you’re interested.” Bill let out a breathy laugh, and Stan smiled softly, nodding as he unbuckled and got out of the car. They went around back, climbing into the pickup and going for the chest of blankets that smelled like Bill and the other Losers. Bill pulled up Stan’s favorite, and Richie’s favorite (Stan’s second favorite), and then searched around the trunk some more before pulling out a journal Stan didn’t recognize as one of the usual ones he doodled in.

They took their shoes and socks off and left them in the truck, Stan hating how the sand felt in his socks and Bill simply liking to be barefoot when it was warm outside.

They walked to the beach and laid the blankets out, trusting the lack of any breeze not to blow them away before Bill took Stan’s smaller hand in his again and led him to the water.

“So what’s our agenda?” Stan inquired, swinging their hands lightly between them as they approached the water, some of it already splashing onto their bare feet.

“I don’t have an exact plan, but there are a few things we never got to do that we alway said we would,” Bill explained, and walked until the water reached their ankles, and stopped. “Like go to that gross seven eleven on the outskirts of town, or scream as loud as we can off the quarry cliff, or catch fireflies down in the barrens.” Bill sighed and looked at the horizon, admiring how perfectly illuminated by the moon it was. The light reflected off the water in a way that made his heartbeat feel synced to the ripples. “Remember when we went down there as kids and I’d lead up all? And we’d pretend to be going on safaris?” He laughed a little at the memory. Stan laughed, too.

“Yes,” Bill could hear the smile in his voice, and his fingers wiggled playfully between Bill’s, “Of course I do, Big Bill. You’re a genius.”

“I never fully understood that,” Bill admitted, still looking out far off into the horizon, maybe so far he didn’t even know what he was looking at or for anymore. “Big Bill,” He repeated, clarifying, “I know that’s me, obviously, and that I was deemed the idea man, the leader - I guess - but I don’t… I don’t know, I never understood why.”

“Do you want my reasons?” Of course Stan had reasons, he was Stan Uris, after all. One of the reasons Bill loved him so much.

“Sure.” Bill looked down to Stan finally, who stared out at the horizon and he imagined he’d been doing seconds ago.

“You were the strongest,” Stan licked his lips, “You rode the fastest bike, you stood up to Henry when you felt like you could - that crazy son of a bitch,” Stan laughed bitterly for a moment, and then his head turned and his eyes met Bill. “I think I might have liked you back then, too, like how Beverly did - but with less instance that I was in love with you. I just liked you, I looked up to you back then. You were Big Bill, I think all of us looked up to Big Bill.”

“And now?” Bill couldn’t help but ask, and Stan stepped closer a few inches. A faint breeze picked up and tossed his curls out of his face as he inhaled, his eyes fluttering closed. Bill reached for this other hand, and they stayed like that a moment before Stan spoke softly again.

“Now even more like how Beverly did, but less childishly,” He opened his eyes, and Bill waited with bated breath for him to finish. He observed every part of Stan’s face carefully, like he were taking inventory, making sure it was all there. It was, it always was. “You’re still Big Bill,” He paused to run his tongue over his lips, like he were thinking for the right words. Bill’s eyes followed the movement. “But I think I see eye-to-eye with you now. I think I see you for what you are, rather than my eleven year old salvation - if that makes sense.”

“That makes sense,” Bill barely breathed, nodding once curtly.

“Good,” Stan smiled.

Bill pressed their foreheads together for a moment and sighed, holding tightly to Stan’s hands that held his own gently and with care, like he knew Bill was fragile in that moment. Maybe he was.

They let small waves wash up on their ankles for only another few minutes before walking back to their blankets, Bill sitting on one and picking up the notebook he’d laid there. He opened it to a page and read the contents aloud. “Go to the lake beach outside of town, check,” He noted verbally, “Figure out the most efficient way to go about these plans. Okay, maybe we should do that. Mark them down in the sand, babe?” Bill quirked up and eyebrow and glanced up to Stan, who nodded and picked up a nearby stick to write with. Bill went back to his notebook.

“Scream at the quarry, two a.m seven eleven run, catch fireflies at the Barrens, see everyone individually one last time, tell Stan I-,” Bill cut himself off, saving the surprise.  _Tell Stan I’m in love with him_ , “That one’s not important. The end is go home and sleep for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t want to talk about the end,” Stan frowned at the ground, and Bill watched his tongue poke out in concentration as he traced things into the sand with his stick. Bill waited patiently, and when he was finished, he spoke. “The seven eleven is closest, we should go there first, and then hit everyone’s houses on the way to the barrens, and then the quarry on the other side of town.” He plopped down next to Bill, who threw his arm around him and pulled him down onto him as he laid back.

“You’re a genius, Stanley Uris!” He laughed, and Stan giggled, feigning annoyance as he swatted at Bill to let him go - but he didn’t, and they stayed like that a moment. Bill looked from Stan’s lips to his eyes and back again twice, wondering if now was the best time to kiss him. He decided against it, he wanted that to come later, after he told Stan everything. Maybe he’d yell it off the cliff - that was romantic, wasn’t it?

Fifteen minutes later Stan was climbing back into the trunk to put things away - but Bill stopped him. “Wait! Don’t put the notebook away,” Stan stopped and turned to Bill, who leaned over the side of his truck, and looked at him puzzledly. “It’s for you. I wrote it for you,” He felt the blush creep up on his own cheeks. Was he being too cliche? He half didn’t care, but half did.

Stan didn’t seem to mind. “Oh,” He smiled, lifting the book back up to look at it closer. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the blanket, too,” Bill added, nodding to the blanket that Stan loved so much in his hands, “Something to remind you of me.”

Stan frowned again. “Stop saying that,” He looked away from Bill and out toward the horizon again. “As if I’d forget you without this. I could never forget you, or anyone I’ve spent the last seventeen years of my life with in that god-forsaken town, but especially not you.”

Bill gulped. “Right.” He nodded and got in the car, starting it and waiting for Stan to climb back down and get in on the other side.

They drove in silence to the seven eleven. Not that Bill thought Stan was mad at him, but because he couldn’t think of something that didn’t revolve around Stan’s moving away. He didn’t want Stan to move - he didn’t at all think it was fair, and that was half of what he talked about in the journal he wrote. He’d filled almost every page, a mere three blank at the end, with sweet words strung together in love poems and his tries at sonnets and letters and doodles of them together and sometimes just his thoughts about everything. He’d worked on that journal for weeks, he’d been working on it before he even found out Stan was moving.

“I wish I could keep you in the palm of my hand forever,” He blurted just as they pulled into the parking lot, the orange and green neon glowing in the darkness of the night. “Or I wish you could keep me wrapped around your finger forever, though that might already be true - because I don’t know if I ever won’t be.” He laughed breathily, bitter-sweetly.

Stan rolled his eyes playfully. “Don’t wax poetic on me just yet, Ben is our last stop before the barrens - save it for his house.” He chuckled as he got out of the truck, and Bill heard his feet hit the ground as his heart thudded in his chest. He could practically feel the love he had for the boy flowing through his veins, and he hated it - hated that he was going to be ripped away from him in a matter of hours. He felt like he might go out of his mind if he thought about it anymore, about saying goodbye, so he decided to just focus on the fact that Stan was his tonight, if only for tonight, and promised himself that he would try to make it last as long as he possibly could.

They sat on the edge of the sidewalk and drank slurpees, Stan’s staining his mouth red and Bill’s staining his own blue - and Bill had to resist the urge to make a joke about them making purple, though he really wanted to actually do it.

“How’s yours taste?” Stan mumbled, straw occupying his mouth.

“Tastes like a slurpee from a gas station,” Bill shrugged, and Stan shoved his shoulder with his playfully. “Yours?”

“You’re such a smartass,” Stan moved his cup away from his face and the straw out of his mouth, “But, yeah, same. Wanna try?”

Bill was a little taken aback by the offer - Stan never let anyone eat or drink from his same utensils or straws or cups if there were no straws, but perhaps he was feeling risky tonight.

“Sure,” Bill answered, and moved his head so that he was facing Stan, waiting for him to put the straw to his mouth - but it never came. Instead, Stan moved his face forward, too, catching Bill’s lips with his own. Bill didn’t object - it wasn’t exactly the first kiss he was going for, but it was as perfect as he could have hoped for if not more so.

Bill was the first to pull away after a few moments of moving his mouth against Stan’s innocently, putting his cup on the ground and his hands on Stan’s waist. He was a bit out of breath, Stan had caught him off-guard.

“I’m sorry,” Stan flushed pink in the stale convenience store’s light, “To be fair, I didn’t think you would fall for it. You know better than anyone I don’t like to share drinks.”

“I’m dumber than you give me credit for,” Bill chuckled, “But don’t be sorry, that was… Amazing.”

“Good,” Stan nodded, “Because I wasn’t really sorry for it, anyway.”

They laughed, and Bill pulled Stan in close for several more chaste kisses, none of them lasting for more than a second or two - but now that he’d had some of Stan, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re going to turn our mouths purple,” Stan laughed, getting up and brushing himself off, “We have to go to Richie’s now, you know, he’s going to know what we’ve been up to.”

“He won’t,” Bill replied, though he wasn’t really that sure. Richie had an eye for these things, to say the least. “But you’re right, we’re losing night-light, we should probably head over to everyone.”

Stan nodded in agreement, tossing their empty paper cups into the nearest trash can before climbing back up into Bill’s truck.

They joked all the way to Richie’s house, which was only  a few minutes drive, but was still filled with reminiscence of Richie’s stupid voices as well as the few years he spent with braces and had a lisp that was ten times worse than Bill’s old stutter.

“Eh, What’th up doc?” Bill mocked Richie’s Bugs Bunny voice, Stan bursting into a fit of giggles as they pulled up on the side street that connected to the yard of the Tozier’s. Richie’s room wasn’t on the second floor, thank god, so there would be no need to throw rocks, just make enough noise to wake him from his sleep. Hopefully they wouldn’t startle him too badly.

The got out of the car as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake any of the neighbors, and crept to Richie’s window - where they found the light on.

“Dickhead isn’t even asleep yet,” Bill snorted, “Classic.”

“I’ll bet you ten dollars Eddie’s in there, too.” Stan quipped, hands now on the bottom of the window pane and ready to push up.

“Oh he definitely is,” Bill whispered back, “The window latches are unlocked.”

The pair snickered at their friends before Stan pushed the window the rest of the way up, pushing past the curtains and hearing two louds gasps as he scrambled in, Bill straight behind him. They were greeted with the sight of Richie and Eddie on Richie’s bed - his shirt missing - and still breathing hard with red cheeks, looking like they just tumbled away from one another.

“Jeez, guys,” Bill laughed quietly, “Didn’t know you were busy.”

“What do you fuckers want?” Richie cussed at them but didn’t hide the wide smile that took up his face, “It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Too busy getting it on for one last goodbye, then?” Stan raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms across his chest, and Richie and Eddie were hopping out of bed and enveloping him in a hug. Stan laughed, and Bill had to stop himself from putting his hand over his heart at the wonderful sound.

“Of course not!” Eddie chirped, burying his head into Stan’s chest, “Stan, truly, I would ditch Richie for you any day.”

“Stan the man, I love you more than Eds possibly ever could, that’s why I’m your bestest friend in the whole wide world and am going to miss you more than anyone else. You know that, right?” Richie leaned back from where he was burying his own face in Stan’s hair, “That I’m going to miss you most of all? Who will I gush about Eddie to  _now_?”

“Pfft,” Stan deadpanned, “We haven’t had a sleepover since we were fourteen, asshole.” The love in his voice was clear despite his insult.

“I’m right here, guys,” Bill chimed in, and Richie and Eddie turned to him, while Stan merely looked up and smiled.

“Ah, Big Bill, c’mere!” Richie welcomed him into the hug and Eddie’s faced showed nothing but pure love and happiness at the moment that was unravelling - it was beautiful, but they were missing three very important pieces of each other.

“I know we just had our goodbye party today,” Eddie said, a bit muffled by their group hug, “But it feels like forever ago. It feels like you never have to leave, Stan.” The last sentence was sad - and Richie Tozier would have none of that in  _his_  house, so he created a diversion. Stan was thankful, somewhat.

“Hey, Bill,” He squinted, a smirk making its way onto his face, “Why do you and Stan both have purple-tinted lips?”

“We got slurpees at seven-eleven,” Bill withheld some of the truth, “We both got grape.” He lied.

“Mhm, so why are yours slightly darker than his?”

Bill felt his cheeks blush and he wracked his brain for another quick lie. “I, uh, got… Dark grape?”

Stan physically facepalmed.

“Hoo-hoo-hoo! Big Bill, you sly dog! Get your  _mans_ , Bill!” Richie detached, attempting to push a now red faced Stan into Bill’s arms.

“Actually,” Stan spoke up, “I made the first move.”

Bill blushed harder.

“HOO!” Richie yelled, and elbowed Stan lightly, “Stanny’s finally getting his dick wet, I see, bout time-,”

“You know? Forget I said anything,” Stan laughed, though he usually would have snapped at Richie and Bill knew it. These were extenuating circumstances. “I’m going to miss you a lot, Rich, and your stupid jokes and voice and innuendos.” Bill was pretty sure he and Eddie were both ignoring the cracks in Stan’s voice and how choked up he sounded.

“Don’t cry, Stanley,” Richie put his hands on Stan’s shoulders, like an older brother would to comfort his younger sibling. Bill used to do that to Eddie as well as Georgie a lot. “If you cry, I’ll cry, and you can’t strip me of my masculinity in front of Eds like this,” He joked again, but a tear was already rolling down the side of his face, almost mirroring Stan’s.

Bill watched Stan’s button lip quiver before he took it under his front teeth, pushing his body into Richie’s arms and throwing his own around Richie’s midsection in a tight hug. He watched Stan cry into his best friend’s shirt, and watched Eddie gently grab onto his shirt, hugging his outside as well.

“Eddie,” Stan choked, and looked like he was trying to say something else before simply pulling the brown haired boy into himself and Richie once more. Bill’s heart felt like it weighed a ton in his chest, like it would pull him to the ground like an anchor underwater in seconds if he didn’t do something.

He walked around to Stan’s other side and stretch his arms over all of them once more, Stan sobbing in the middle of the three of them.

“We can’t cry like this again, Stan,” Richie tried to smile among his own tears, laughing bitterly, “We just did this with everyone, like, seven hours ago.” He wiped at his eyes from under his glasses, and everyone’s grips loosened.

Stan heaved a deep breath, wiping his own eyes. He grabbed blindly for Bill’s hand, and they found each other’s fingers like magnets. “I know, I know,” He breathed, “I just still have some more tears for everyone.” He tried to laugh, but it came out only as an exhale.

“Are you ready to go see Beverly?” Bill squeezed Stan’s hand, and Stan squeezed back twice. Bill didn’t know what it meant, but he took it as a good thing.

“Yeah,” He breathed deeply again. “Thank you for everything, Richie, I love you.” He leaned up to give Richie one last, tight hug, free arm wrapped around his neck.

“I love you, too, Stan. Just one year, and then we’re hauling your ass back to Derry in Bill’s big ol’ truck.”

“Just one year.” Stan repeated, trying to smile, letting go of him. “And you, Eddie,” He turned to Eddie, and the two wrapped each other in a tight hug as well, “Thank you for always agreeing with me, or most of the time,” He laughed a little over Eddie’s shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stan. You’re welcome, and Richie’s right. I’ll drive there myself if I have to.”

Stan sniffled and smiled a small smile, letting go of Eddie. “Thank you guys. I’m going to miss you so much,” He said again sadly before turning back to Bill, Bill’s eyes making their way from their outstretched, entwined hands to his splotchy, red face. Bill still thought he looked more beautiful than ever, as disgustingly cliche as he’d admit that sounded. “Okay,” Stan nodded to him, “I’m ready now.”

Bill nodded back, and gave Richie and Eddie smiles and waves on his way out. They were returned, silent ‘See you tomorrow’s that went unsaid for Stan’s sake - because those were words that he would not be able to relate to for a long time, and they all knew he could just barely stand it. Bill listened to Richie close the window behind him.

Stan wiped at his eyes again when they got in the truck.

“You okay?” Bill looked at him before starting the car. Stan hummed.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s all just- Really emotional for me, you know, which is very overwhelming.” He half-laughed. “Let’s go see Beverly.”

“Your wish is my command.” Bill nodded, putting the truck in gear and setting off for Beverly’s aunt’s house.

Beverly’s house was close to Richie’s, only a three minute drive or so, and they remembered aloud how much longer it took on their bikes as kids - or even only two years ago.

“I remember I took Beverly on her very first date there,” Stan mumbled with a little humor in his voice, pointing out his window as they passed the laundromat, “It wasn’t a real date, I guess, but we joked that it was. Remember that?”

“When she spilled all that grape juice all over herself and you paid to clean her clothes?” Bill spared a glance at Stan and observed him only for a second, and saw Stan looking out his window wistfully, the left of his forehead pressed against the window lightly. Bill didn’t care if it made a mark. He would gladly keep any proof that Stan had been there before.

“Yeah,” Stan nodded, “She wanted to pay herself but I knew she didn’t have money to, anyway, so I said something about her wanting to go dutch.” Stan chuckled at his kid-self’s humor, “It was funnier back then.” He sighed, lips falling back down into a line.

“I’m sure,” Bill agreed, licking his lips as he pulled up to the sidewalk only a block away from Beverly’s. “You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Stan breathed out, slightly sarcastic.

Bill raised his eyebrows innocently. “Of course you do,” His eyes were wide, and he looked at Stan curiously. Had he ever not given Stan a choice? He liked to think he never made Stan do anything he didn’t want to, except go into Neibolt that one time when they were thirteen. “I’m sorry if I ever haven’t given you one.”

“You always gave them to me when I needed them,” Stan nodded, not really providing any clarification of his remark, but making Bill feel a little better. So maybe Stan didn’t need a choice here. Maybe this was something he didn’t want to do, but needed to. Yeah. Bill knew that. Bill knew what was best for him.

“This is just a drop in the ocean,” Bill remarked, closing his door and walking around to take Stan’s hand, “This isn’t the last time for anything, I promise.”

Stan leaned up on his tiptoes to press a small kiss to Bill’s lips. “Do you?” He asked quietly, and they began to walk toward the fire escape.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Bill took his free hand and pointed his finger up, drawing an ‘X’ over the spot in his chest that seemed to beat Stan’s name over and over again.  _Stan-ley, Stan-ley, Stan-ley._

“Me too, then.” Stan mimicked his actions. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

They approached the fire escape that lead to Beverly’s room in her aunt’s apartment, and Bill hoisted Stan up over the cold black metal before pulling himself up and over. They managed to make little noise, just the small creaks underneath their feet. Their hands were linked again in seconds, fingers lacing together like knots. Bill never wanted to let go, and allowed Stan to lead him up the stairs to Beverly’s third story window.

They found her awake as well, always so much like Richie, sat up at the fire escape window smoking a cigarette.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Goose,” She nearly purred, her voice sewn with tiredness. “I was just thinking about you. And you brought Denbrough,” She moved her head to see Bill. “Hey Bill.”

“We’ve always been so in sync,” Stan’s smiled grew, and his shoulders rose and fell shortly, in a small laugh.

Bill laughed lightly from behind him, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy, resting his chin on Stan’s shoulder. Stan’s palm never left his own. “He’s a gay that can’t drive, but you think  _he_  brought  _me_?”

“Hey,” Stan turned to him, “I just don’t have a car, otherwise maybe I would have.”

“I don’t know,” Beverly flicked her cigarette, ashes falling far to the ground below, or maybe dissipating in the breeze below. “Seems to me Stan was just leading you up those stairs, Cinderella.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “You gonna let us in or what, Marsh?”

Bev gave up her poker face at last and laughed, putting the cigarette out on the side of the building before retracting herself back inside. Stan disconnected to follow her, Bill right behind him as always.

“So what’cha here for?” Beverly asked, plopping down on her bed on the other side of the small room, her short red curls bouncing. Stan sat down next to her, and Bill leaned on the wall against the window. These were Stan’s moments with everyone, not his. He wanted Stan to have them - they’d have their time together.

He zoned out as they talked, considering what Stan had said at the lake.  _Now even more like how Beverly did, but less childishly. You’re still Big Bill, but I think I see eye-to-eye with you now._

Bill ran his tongue over his drying lips as his mind carried him back only an hour or so.

_I see you for what you are._

He took in Stan’s face again just then, like he’d done while the cold water splashed against his legs. He took inventory, making sure the nose that Stan thought was too big and Bill thought was adorable was still there and perfectly sculpted, checked that his complexion was the same albeit the redness from previous and maybe even forthcoming tears making it difficult, squinting to see that, yes, his eyes were still the same hazel they had always been. That warm color that Bill thought he could live in forever without complaint, splashed with gold and green that almost glittered in the sunlight or when Stan smiled big, framed with beautiful long eyelashes and those by arched eyebrows. Stan was beautiful, not that Bill had never realized it before; it just took his breath away every time he rediscovered just how true the sentiment was.

And suddenly Stan’s perfect features were removed from his vision, and Bill realized he and Beverly were wrapping each other in hugs, and he watched their curls almost tangle them together. He shook his head and tried to catch himself up on what was going on, hearing Stan sob, and before he even knew what he was doing his feet were moving him to the bed and hugging over the two.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Stan’s voice was muffled by Beverly’s shoulder, Bill felt his back move with his voice.

“I love you, Goose, it’s only for a year, and we can arrange visits, and- and write letters like old people,” Beverly sniffled, and it occurred to Bill that he’d never really seen her cry before. It was an odd feeling, and an odd sight to watch her wipe her eyes and then wipe Stan’s cheeks, putting her hands on his shoulders like Richie had. Bill leaned back when she did, and rubbed circles into his back. Stan rested his hands in his lap.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, Stan,” Beverly sniffled and looked like she was blinking away more tears. “Especially for my first date. The first man to treat me well, and then he turns around and has a crush on my crush.” She joked, and Stan let out a small laugh.

“Promise me if you meet any special men or ladies you’ll tell me about them immediately,” Stan bantered back, “I’ll need to make sure they’re treating my Bevvie right.”

Beverly’s hands dropped from Stan’s shoulders and into his lap, and if Bill craned his neck he could see them gently take Stan’s, rubbing circles with her thumbs into the tops of his fingers. “I promise.”

“I love you, Beverly,” Stan heaved a breath in like he’d done at Richie’s, and Bill could hear the sob on the edge of his voice that he was trying to swallow.

“I love you, too, Stan,  _so_  much.”

Stan turned to Bill then, and Bill saw just how red his eyes were even in only the dim light that streamed in from the window and the little bit that emanated from the yellowing lamp on Beverly’s desk. Stan didn’t say anything, just let go of Beverly’s hands and thrust himself into Bill’s midsection, holding him there for a minute, burying his face in Bill’s shirt. He let him.

A moment later and Stan came back up for air, and sat upright. His face looked less like he was crying, and Bill reached out for his cheek to wipe at the streak of a past tear. Stan let him gently pas his thumb over it.

“Mike’s house next?” Stan whispered. Bill nodded.

“Tell Mike I said hi,” Beverly requested with a small smile.

“I will,” Bill nodded again, mirroring her expression, and getting up. Stan followed suit, and grabbed for Bill’s hand again. He was clingier than Bill had previously though, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all.

Beverly walked them back to the window.

“I love you, Bev, I don’t know how many times I’ve said it today; I love you so much.” Stan let out a half-hearted laugh, his proclamations tasting bittersweet in his mouth now.

“I love you, too, I don’t care how many times I’ve said it.” She wrapped him in one last hug, her arms thrown around his neck and his free arm wrapped tight around her waist. They let go after another minute. Bill nodded to Beverly as Stan escaped out the window, half pulling him with him, another silent, ‘I’ll see you later’ but with more ‘I’m going to come here and cry to you about him not being here tomorrow, just so you know.’ Beverly nodded back in understanding. She was always great at that.

They were just as noiseless walking down the steps as they had been climbing up, and Bill hopped over first, then helping Stan down. Their hands barely left the other’s the whole time.

“I can’t believe it’s almost three already,” Stan pursed his lips and frowned at his watch, now sat in Bill’s passenger seat.

“Guess we better get a move on, then,” Bill hummed, pulling away from the sidewalk he’d parked by.

“Do you think Mike’ll take me out to see the sheep a last time?” Stan wondered aloud, “Like, if we’re really quiet, we can go see them.”

“I don’t know,” Bill mused, “You can ask him, but we’re running low on time-,”

“Oh, you’re right. I want to do the other things you have planned, too.” Stan nodded, as if he were going over Bill’s list of plans in his mind again. He probably was. That was how Stan was. “No sheep. I told them I loved them and would miss them today, anyway.”

“Yesterday, now,” Bill said, but then he wished he hadn’t, because it provoked a sigh from Stan, and Bill heard his head bump against the window.

“Yeah,” He agreed, “Yesterday. My last day. But here we are, today, and I’m still here.”

Bill didn’t answer. He began to think maybe he was running from this reality even more than Stan was at this point. After all, that was why he was here, wasn’t it? To prolong Stan’s physicality with him, to pretend that the sun wouldn’t rise in only a couple hours and Stan be whooshed away? That was it, he knew, but he felt like he was out of his mind anyhow.

Bill sort of wished the drive to the Hanlon farm wasn’t so long now, though it had only been a few minutes. He couldn’t stand to be alone with his thoughts when Stan was right next to him.

“Do you remember when I dated Mike two years ago?” Stan asked out of the blue. “In freshman year? Wow, I guess it’s almost three years, now, then.”

“I remember,” Bill almost laughed. “I was so jealous. It was ridiculous.”

“You were?”

“Well, yeah, he got to have your first kiss. I know you got to have his, too, so that makes it fair, and it wouldn’t have been that if that were me,” Bill readjusted his grip on the wheel and paused to yawn. “Because I already had mine with Beverly back in third grade. Seems kind of unfair for me to have mine then and take yours, but I still wished it was me anyway.”

Stan didn’t laugh like Bill thought he might, but he spared a glance and saw Stan smiling softly. “I don’t think it matters so much who’s your first,” He said, and Bill wasn’t surprised. Stan didn’t buy into superficialities so easily. It were his next words that hit Bill harder, with an idea he’d never considered before. “I think it matters most who’s your last.”

“I think you’re right,” Bill nodded in agreement, and prayed his would be Stan someday.

“Have I ever been wrong?” Stan joked, and Bill hummed loudly and pretended to think.

“Oh, about lots of things,” He nodded very seriously, “You say your nose is too big, that it makes you ugly. That doesn’t sound right to me at all.”

Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t respond otherwise.

“I’m serious,” Bill insisted, “I think you’d look just as beautiful with a different nose, or maybe not, because a smaller nose wouldn’t be  _your_ nose. So, you’re wrong.”

“Okay, okay,” Stan laughed breathily, “You can stop.”

Bill obeyed, and in minutes they were pulling up to Mike’s house, Bill stopping in the lower part of the gravel driveway.

“Ready part three?” Bill unbuckled and turned to Stan.

“Can you-,” Stan started, reaching out a hand but then retracting it. “Can you stay here for, like, a few minutes? I-,”

“Yeah,” Bill cut him off. It only made sense Stan would want alone time with Mike, he was his first real love, after all. Bill tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. “Of course.”

Stan took a deep breath and smiled at Bill uneasily as he got out. “Thanks.”

“No prob’,” Bill dismissed, and slouched way low in his seat after Stan shut the door. He sucked breath into his cheeks and puffed them up, letting the air escape through his near-puckered lips with a  _phoooh_ sound. He reminded himself that he was here for Stan, not to satisfy his own desires. He was doing this for Stan.

But was he really?

To his better judgement, this seemed like some last-ditch attempt to spend all possible time with Stan that he could get in. Satisfy his own need to have as much Stan as he could get before he wouldn’t be able to as easily as he had always. He planned on calling and writing, of course, oh, how he planned on writing. He already had his first three letters lined up. He was whipped, really, he’d come to accept, and they weren’t even together. Not really. Bill was sure he’d been in love with Stan for quite some time, at least a year or so. It felt so normal by now to feel butterflies when Stan’s hand brushed against his or when he smiled so wide it showed all of his teeth. He was sure tonight that Stan had felt the same, and they’d exchanged a few sentiments before at sleepovers, late night or even drunken confessions that led them to the admittedly sort of fucked up emotional game they played. Bill could never force himself to make a move, and Stan just didn’t, but they acted like they were in love and called each other pet names every other day of the week, so that made things alright.

Bill had girlfriends in the midst of all of this (including Beverly, which served only to bring them closer in friendship, which was nice, but not really anything past that), so that was likely tied to the reason. It wasn’t conscious emotional cheating, he just felt the way he did about Stan for so long he didn’t know how to put it on pause. It was fucked up, he knew that, but at least he’d finally come to his senses in recent months - even more so when Stan brought everyone the news. And now he knew for sure how he felt and what he wanted, and that was Stan, it always had been and it might always be. The thought scared Bill in ways, but excited him at the same time. He thought about what Stan said about your ‘lasts’. He would never know who his last would be until the end came - so he figured he might as well have Stan as many times as he needed to in between so that he would be it. And maybe he’d be Stan’s last, too. Was it too selfish to say he hoped so? He didn’t care. He hoped so.

Eight minutes had passed since Stan got out of the car, Bill’s watch told him, and he figured that was more than enough time and got out. He knew Stan could do this on his own, he was a big boy, but Bill wanted to be there for all of these moments, too. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was so self-serving tonight, as it was meant to be about Stan, but he didn’t stop himself from walking to Mike’s open window on the side of the house.

It was low to the ground, easy enough for him to hoist a leg over and in and pull himself the rest of the way, but he stopped halfway through. He sort of wished, in a poetic way, that he could say he felt something dramatic. Like his heart falling in his chest, or like he was going to wretch, or tears brimming his eyes - but Bill felt nothing as Mike and Stan scrambled apart, both of their lips swollen.

“Am I interrupting something?” He heard himself ask stupidly. Of course he was interrupting something, that was obvious.

“Uh, no, no,” Stan excused, “You’re fine, uh, has it been a few minutes already, then?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s been ten,” Bill still sat (awkwardly, now) on the pane in between out and inside, “And you said you wanted to get a move on with things, so I figured you guys would be wrapping it up. I can go back to the car and give you more time, if you want-,”

“No, that’s okay,” Stan nodded, and looked back to Mike, who was looking between them with guilt written on his features. “Goodbye, Mike, thank you for everything again.” He walked toward him nearly automatically for a hug, which was also short-lived and robotic. The entire atmosphere was awkward, and Bill felt like he was about to be suffocated by it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stan. Come back and visit?” Mike clearly tried to wipe away the tenseness, and it worked a little bit. “The sheep are going to wonder where their favorite herder’s gone.”

“Don’t make me cry over sheep,” Stan gave a small laugh, and then turned to the window, where Bill was climbing back out of now.

“Bye, Mike.”

“Bye, Stan.”

And now Stan stood on the other side of the window with Bill, but they didn’t hold hands this time. Bill walked to the car and Stan followed.

The ride to Ben’s house was quiet, and not their usual silence. Bill didn’t like this silence. It felt like the car was full of water so they couldn’t hear each other if they tried. But neither was trying, so it didn’t really matter.

Ben’s house was not particularly far from Mike’s, and closer to the Barrens and therefore to the Quarry. Bill remembered going back to his house on their escapades as kids - after their make-believe safaris with their make-believe tigers - for glasses of lemonade or whatever else. Bill remembered his crush on Beverly, and how that had grown into something Bill could only imagine was like how he felt about Stan. So maybe this was how he felt when Bill dated Beverly, and when they kissed, and when they would hold hands in front of him - it was like how it felt to see Stan do those same things with anyone who wasn’t him. It sucked. He owed Ben an apology.

“Am I allowed to wax poetic yet?” Bill asked when they pulled up to the street behind Ben’s house. He seemed to have caught Stan off guard, because he jumped up from where he was about to doze off.

“You can if you want to,” Stan mumbled after a moment.

“O Stanley Uris,” He began humorously, “When thou places a sweet kiss upon lips that belong not to thy, thy feels like shit. Thy are selfish, true, but thy wants thou all to thyself.”

“I don’t think that’s how ‘thou’ and ‘thy’ work,” Stan snorted and paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, it wasn’t your last, so it’s okay. We’ll have others, I hope, at least.”

He had bigger problems than who Stan chose to kiss, anyway. Problems like potentially never seeing Stan again, problems that disobeyed the rules of ever-predictable Derry that kept everything within sight and expected. If Stan left, that left too much open space and undetermined future, and Bill couldn’t see it ever being set or filled until those new moments knocked him on the head and said,  _Hey, buddy, it’s time to move the fuck on_.

And that was something Bill did not want to do. So it was a problem.

Stan moved up in his seat and pecked Bill on the mouth. “There’s one just in case we don’t, or at least for the road.”

They were alright then. They held hands as the looked up to Ben’s room window on the second floor. His yard was virtually empty - nothing for them to climb to get up there and no rocks to throw either.

“Damn it,” Bill swore, trying to think of a quick solution. They were silent, fingers entwined, while he scratched his head and wracked his brain. “Wait - doesn’t his mom keep a spare key under the mat? Let’s just go in.”

“Are you suggesting we break into our friend’s home?” Stan asked incredulously, sounding like he was about to laugh disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Bill nodded - but then there was a crack and a whoosh, and the two looked up to the window.

“I thought I heard voices,” Ben hissed from his window, “It’s nearly four in the morning, what are you two doing here?”

“‘Came to say goodbye,” Stan answered before Bill could, but Bill finished for him.

“Come down or let us up!” He whisper-shouted.

Ben suddenly laughed loud, and then when he was talking next it was at normal volume. “No one’s here, I don’t know why we’re whispering. You guys can come in, I’ll be right down.”

They nodded and Ben disappeared from the window, soon reappearing at his back door to let them inside.

“My mom’s out on business for the weekend,” Ben informed them, “I thought I mentioned that, but I guess not. Didn’t seem very important. So what are you guys doing here, again?” He lead them into the living room and they all sat down on the large couch in front of the tv, but nobody switched it on for obvious reasons.

“Well,” Stan, who sat closer to Ben, began, “Bill is taking me around town and seeing everyone one last time before I have to go,” He swallowed. Bill could tell he was more accepting of the fact now, but still didn’t like the thought. Bill didn’t either. “Your house happened to be the closest to the barrens, so we’ve already seen everyone else.”

“What are you gonna do at the barrens? We haven’t gone down there in years. I wonder what happened to that dam we built…” Ben thought out loud.

“We always said we’d go and catch fireflies down there,” Bill explained, Ben looking out of his reverie and to him, “We never did, so Stan and I are doing all the things we said we would but never got to.”

“It was his idea, really.” Stan nodded. Bill felt the guilt brought on by his own selfishness swirl in his stomach, but he smiled nonetheless.

“Very romantic, Bill,” Ben smiled sweetly. “I’m glad I got up for this then. I’m really going to miss you, Stan, I’m sure we all are.”

“Don’t make me cry again, Hanscom,” Stan laughed bitterly, and Bill could hear him getting choked up again. “I’ve already cried, like, four times in the last two hours.” He sniffled.

“Well I haven’t,” Ben mimicked Stan’s little laugh, and Bill could hear him getting choked up, too. Stan sniffled and the two moved closer wordlessly, each wrapping each other in a tight hug.

The only word Bill could find that correctly described the moment - the whole night, really -  was ‘bittersweet.’

He was always awed by how much everyone in their little group loved each other, no matter what couples they paired off into or broke out of, and seeing Stan’s interactions with everyone like he was a third party in the room made him feel a little flutter in his chest for all of them. He loved Stan, they all loved Stan, they all loved each other - perhaps in different ways, but the love was always there, Bill knew. He felt it at Richie’s, he felt it at Bev’s, he felt it at Mike’s, and now here, at Ben’s, it bloomed in his chest and made him feel a little choked up, too.

The bitter part was, of course, that Stan was leaving. He felt like he was running out of time, and he was, he knew that. He knew that when the sun came up he had to take Stan home or feel some sort of wrath, maybe, like Stan’s parents, or his own. Perhaps some force would deliver karmic, poetic justice and circumstantially chastise him for not obeying the unspoken rule that this was to be the last time he would see Stan for some while, at least. That part had him choked up, too, but it wasn’t his turn to cry yet. They had two more places to go.

Bill blanked and Stan and Ben were apart, each wiping their eyes, and Ben with a dopey sort of smile on his face, like he was embarrassed and trying to play it off.

“I love you, Stan - and you, Bill.” Ben smiled over Stan’s shoulder at him, and Bill felt a tear roll down his cheek. He hoped Ben didn’t catch it, and he wiped it away quickly, giving s half-hearted smile back.

“I love you, too, Ben,” Stan said, nodding, following it with a cough before getting up. He wiped his hands on his pants as if he were dusting them off. “Are we ready to go?”

Bill stood as well, moving over to Stan and taking his hand again. Stan’s hand went for his in the same moment, and Bill wished he noticed who laced whose fingers with whose. He disregarded the thought, what was important was how natural it felt to hold Stan’s hand like this, sure of himself and his feelings, every touch more meaningful than ever before. He licked his lips and smiled slightly, lifting his eyes from their entwined fingers.

“You guys are cute,” Ben complimented and smiled, “You look like a little married couple.”

Bill laughed and Stan looked up at him with a soft gaze, as if he were considering the thought but only for a second, and then looked back to Ben with a humored smile.

“I’ll miss you, Ben,” He told him, voice more secure than with anyone else now that he wasn’t choking on so many tears. “So much.”

“I’ll send lots of scenic bird postcards,” Ben promised, “I heard there’s not a lot of those in Chicago.”

“At least I’ll get to know pigeons pretty well,” Stan sighed, but not unhappily. Again, the bittersweet feeling rose in Bill’s chest. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Thank you, too. I’ll see you soon.” Ben nodded, and suddenly they’d walked themselves to the backdoor and Ben was opening it for them, a look caught between sad and happy caught on his face.

Bill took a step back out into the summer night air, Stan only a beat behind. And then Ben was behind glass and they were waving to him as they went back to Bill’s truck, and Bill felt a horrible twisting in his stomach. Two more stops and things would be over. The sun would be shining just over the horizon, and he would be helping Stan climb back into his window and then mailing his letters and then not seeing Stan for a year or maybe even five, depending on where they both decided to go to college. Bill shook his head and tried not to focus on the future anymore, instead watching his own movements carefully as he put the key into the ignition.

They were silent the whole ride, and Bill was almost tempted to turn on the radio just to have something to fill his head instead of his thoughts.

Bill began to drive off-road, uneven terrain thudding a little under his tires as they approached the barrens. He stopped himself on the hill, because if he rolled down he doubted his tired would stop before hitting the water, and then they’d really be stuck. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, getting stuck with Stan without anyone knowing where they were. He knew someone would find them eventually, but anything that provided him with a little more time would be worthwhile. But he knew it was wrong, and the car was already parked, and the idea was ridiculous anyway, so he just unbuckled and got out.

He went around and opened Stan’s door for him. The other boy smiled. “Thanks.”

Bill couldn’t help but smiled back and offered his hand for Stan to hold onto while he jumped down, feeling pleased when Stan took it, not letting go even after he shut the door behind himself. He pulled Bill down the hill to the bank of the water, and they looked out to the forest that rose above their heads across it. Bill listened to the night sounds that buzzed around him: the white noise of crickets chirping, cicadas buzzing every now and again (Wretched creatures, they were, really. Bill knew Stan hated cicadas.), and the calming trickle of water down and around rocks that jutted out from it. He watched a firefly glow and the little yellow-green light reflect in the water every now and again, or some even close to them. He entertained the thought for only a second that maybe if they were still enough, time would stop and they could stay like this forever. Bill didn’t think he’d mind that so much, but again, it was a stupid thought, and he pushed it away.

“It’s nice,” Stan said quietly into the open air, “Tranquil.”

“The fireflies,” Bill nodded, “Are we gonna catch them?”

Stan squeezed Bill’s hand twice before dropping it, turning and giving him a childish grin. “I haven’t caught fireflies in years. Maybe not since that time at your house a few summers ago. What were we, eleven, maybe?”

“You were eleven,” Bill smiled, remembering, “I was twelve.”

Stan rolled his eyes but the smile remained. “And you’re seventeen today and I’m seventeen, too, so what does that matter now?”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Bill shrugged, “Just being technical.”

Stan turned, then, and was still for a moment before stepping forward and outstretching his hand, a tiny glow landing on his finger. He turned back to Bill, carefully holding up his prize.

“This is William,” He teased, tongue poking between his teeth in his goading grin. “Say hi, William.”

The firefly flew off of Stan’s finger just then, joining the rest of them flying about. There weren’t many, but enough that every so often one flew by Stan’s face and illuminated it a little more. Bill appreciated it.

“‘Guess he didn’t like the name,” Bill mused. “Weird, because William is only, like, the sexiest name ever.”

“Right after Stanley,” Stan joked, and Bill gave a little laugh. He reached out in front of himself and grabbed a bug in his right hand - sure it would be less willing to land on him then it would be Stan. Stan had a natural kind aura about him, Bill was sure, so obvious that anyone including bugs could feel it. Bill wasn’t sure what his own vibes were, but he was sure they were messy, and nowhere near the calm and collected ones Stan gave off.

“This is Stanley,” Bill turned back to Stan and opened his palm, sort of surprised to find the tiny creature had simply stood on it, and didn’t fly away immediately. “And he hasn’t flown away yet, so I think he likes the name.” The insect crawled somewhat slowly up Bill’s fingertips, tickling him slightly, to the very tip so it was close to Stan. Bill thought again about the aura thing.

“Hi, Stanley,” Stan said quietly, but didn’t watch the bug - he watched Bill’s eyes instead. It made Bill sort of nervous to be under such a romantic gaze, but then he remembered that this was only Stan, and he had no reason to be nervous around Stan.

“He says hi,” Bill informed, maintaining eye contact with Stan just as the bug took off from his fingers. He became distracted by that, and gave a small laugh. “I don’t think Stanley likes me very much, then.”

“This Stanley likes you,” Stan flirted cheesily, and Bill scrunched up his nose.

“Stan Uris, being cliche? Being  _cheesy_? I never thought I would see it in my lifetime, I’m supposed to be the sappy, cheesy one,” Bill joked, “That’s why we’re here.”

A small smile ghosted Stan’s face as a firefly slowly made its way between their faces, illuminating the dust of a blush on Stan’s cheeks. He closed his eyes and Bill watched him breathe shallowly for just a moment. He grabbed both of Bill’s hands in his gently, not really holding his hands, just barely lacing their fingers together. The touch calmed Bill, causing him to forget that there was anything else happening in the world except this. They were the only ones that existed right now, in Bill’s mind, nothing else happening or to ever happen.

“I love you,” He barely whispered. It sounded more like he was admitting it to the pieces of nature around them than to Bill. Bill knew that already, Bill had known that since he was a child. Stan loved him, he loved Stan, he loved all of his friends. But perhaps Stan was talking about a different type of love.

“Look at me,” Bill whispered back, almost sounding like he was begging. He waited for Stan’s eyes to flutter open and meet his. He leaned in so that their foreheads were almost touching, and half rushed himself. He was going to wait until the quarry, but now was a better time than ever. “I have to tell you something. It’s- it’s important.”

“What?” Stan mumbled, and Bill wasn’t sure why they were talking so low, but at the same time he knew well enough.

Bill took a deep breath, like all the ones Stan took in the car earlier. “I’m in love with you.” Saying it out loud felt… Good, to say the least. The confession was fragile, and beautiful, and sparkling if you looked at it in the right light. It shone on Stan’s face that he had, but Bill wasn’t finished. “I think I always have been, maybe, I just… Didn’t really understand it. But I do now, Stan,  _god_ , I swear I do. I’ve spent nights lying awake in bed thinking this over since I was thirteen, trying desperately to make sense of feelings I was just beginning to question,” Bill paused to chuckle at himself. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I tried to convince myself, but the answer was so simple,” He breathed, “I’m in love with you, Stan. And I’m sorry it took me so long to open my fucking eyes and see that.”

Stan leaned up and touched their foreheads together, his eyes drifting down to where Bill had began holding his fingers a little harder in his confession. And then, he laughed.

“And when did you realize all of this?” He asked curiously. Bill didn’t mind.

“A few weeks ago. I didn’t know how to tell you, and then you- you brought the news, and I panicked. I didn’t know if it was fair to tell you before…”

“Before I moved away.” Stan finished for him, leaning his head away to look up at Bill. Bill searched his face for signs of upsetedness, or irritation, or sadness, but found none. Stan seemed to be at peace with the fact, and maybe Bill was coming to that, too. “It’s okay,” Stan stroked his thumb over Bill’s once and then a second time, “You can say it now. I know I can’t avoid it. It’s just- something I don’t want to do that I have to. Like when you made us all go into Neibolt. Facing a fear.” He nodded, and Bill nodded back.

“Yeah,” He agreed, and exhaled a long breath, “Facing a fear.”  _A fear like losing you_.

Stan leaned up and kissed him again. Bill didn’t spend the moment wishing he could live in it forever, he just stood and enjoyed the feeling of Stan’s lips against his, like Stan was trying to admit mutuals feelings without articulating them. Bill hoped he would actually do so, though, if he did really reciprocate them. Even a fairly self-assured guy needed to hear things like this.

Stan sighed as he pulled away, Bill left content, and they were quiet for what felt like a while, other sounds echoing around them, filling up Bill’s ears.

“I’m in love with you,” Stan said, leaning forward and into Bill’s chest. “I don’t have any interesting realization story. I just am. I guess I didn’t think about it as that before, but it wasn’t something I necessarily  _realized_. I don’t know,” Stan confessed, and Bill laid his chin atop Stan’s soft curls, pulling his hands back and wrapped them around him. Stan did the same, hooking them in a circle around Bill’s midsection.

“You don’t need one,” Bill told him, and felt as Stan turned his head to the other side, “It’s enough just to feel it, I think.”

Stan hummed, and they stayed like that until Bill’s feet got tired and Stan agreed that his own felt tired, too, so they returned to the truck where they could sit. Bill didn’t know if they would talk about this, he felt there wasn’t much to talk about, in truth. They were in love. The thought made him feel giddy, like a kid with a school crush, and maybe that wasn’t too far off from how they were. He wondered what Stan was thinking and they let go of each other’s hands, climbing in their respective sides.

“It’s close to four,” Stan licked his lips and bit his bottom one. It reminded Bill how much he wanted to kiss him again. “The sun will be coming up soon.”

“Guess we should get a move on,” Bill said again, still reluctant to let time keep on passing, but a little less so now than before. Stan loved him. Stan was in love with him. The knowledge made his chest feel warm.

“Guess so,” Stan agreed as Bill started the car again, turning around in between trees and exiting the way he came, following his own tire tracks. Maybe he would come back here tomorrow (well, later today, he supposed) just to see them, just to remind him that this all really happened. He considered pinching himself to convince himself it wasn’t a dream.

A minute of quiet passes before a giggle bubbled from Stan’s throat. Bill felt tired and yawned again, but looked over, already amused by the sound. “What?” He asked.

“We’re in love,” Stan smiled, looking at his lap bashfully. “Maybe this is a first that matters.”

“Maybe so.” Bill had to bite back a wide smile of his own.

“Are you a virgin?” Stan asked randomly then, not so much changing the atmosphere, but the question still surprised Bill.

“No,” He told him truthfully, “Are you?”

“Have you ever had sex with a guy before?” Stan asked instead.

“I mean- not  _technically_ , I guess,” Bill furrowed his eyebrows. He’d known his was bi, he’d sucked dick before, but never taken it up the ass or anything of that sort. So he supposed that answer was no, really. “What about you?” He reflected.

“Yeah,” Stan said, “I have.” And that was the end of that conversation. Bill didn’t want to pry or ask anything too personal, so he dropped it altogether.

They pulled up to the quarry within a few minutes, and this time it was Stan who hopped out first and fast and opened Bill’s door for him. It made Bill laugh.

They were quiet as the walked together to the cliff’s edge, overseeing the water. The sky was turning purple and it was getting a little lighter as it grew nearer and nearer to reasonable morning. Bill watched it reflect in the water below, and remembered how many times they’d jumped off this very cliff. They were countless, really, as that was one summer activity the Losers Club never quit - quarry cliff jumping. Until this next year, Bill supposed, because after today there would be no more Losers Club. They’d be missing a member, and they wouldn’t be whole. Not in Bill’s mind, at least.

“Who’s going first?” Stan asked, head turned to Bill in question.

“Wanna go at the same time?” Bill answered, and Stan nodded, and then they both yelled at the top of their lungs from the edge of the cliff. Bill listened to their voices echo over the water.

“Nice,” He said quietly, a bit of his tension feeling relieved. “I LOVE STAN URIS!” He shouted, and his voice echoed it back.

“I LOVE BILL DENBROUGH!” Stan mimicked him, and Bill tried to commit to memory how it sounded in his voice.

They went back and forth, yelling things and screaming and generally making way too much noise, but that was okay, because they were alone in the world. Nobody else existed except for Stan and Bill and Bill and Stan.

Bill looked at the orange-ing sky and swallowed hard.

“Hey,” Stan seemed to notice, as he voice was calm and soothing, and he brought a hand up to Bill’s cheek gently. “It’s only a year.” He used the same tactic everybody else did, but this time on Bill to console him. Bill put his hand over Stan’s, like if he held it there long enough it would never be removed.

“Things will be so great when you cuh-come back,” He cursed his stutter silently, cursed how he was suddenly reverting back into his former self. He had speech therapy, he got over it, it didn’t need to come back  _now_. “We’ll get an apartment together. We don’t even need to stay in this shitty town, we’ll go live somewhere nice with lots of good birdwatching places and we’ll still drive around in my truck and one day I’ll ask you to marry me,” He rambled, beginning to hold Stan’s hands between his fingers, like he were pleading. “Okay? I promise. We’ll- We’ll get a dog, or a cat, too, and just- everything will be perfect.” He’s not sure what spurred him to think so terribly out loud but it was out there now and he didn’t know what to do with that so he left it for Stan to process.

“That sounds amazing, baby,” He smiled, and leaned up on his tiptoed to peck Bill’s lips. “There’s no one else I would rather be with.”

Were they moving ridiculously fast? Yes. Did they have years of lost time Bill felt they needed to make up for all in one night. Yes, so that was excuse enough for him.

They stayed like that until the bright white of the sun began to really peak over the horizon, and Bill knew it was really time to take Stan home.

Bill was the first to break apart from their little bubble of ignorance. “C’mon,” He tried not to sound like he was on the verge of crying, “We need to get you home before your parents notice you’re gone.”

“Please don’t cry,” Stan begged, neither of them moving from their spots, “ _Bill_ , please don’t cry.”

Bill wrapped him in a tight hug, tighter than he’d seen anyone hug Stan all night, and Stan hugged back just as hard.

“I love you so much,” He finally let thick tears fall into the fabric of Stan’s shirt, his voice muffled by his shoulder. “I can’t believe- I know it’s only a year-  _Fuck_ ,” Bill swore, exasperated he couldn’t find the right words. He felt Stan’s tears heat the skin under his shirt as well. “I’m just going to miss you so much. I  _love you_ , Stan,” He broke away from the hug just to look Stan in his glassy eyes. “I’m so in love with you.”

Stan nodded, bottom lip poking out just a little, indicating he might start crying any time. “Thank you for tonight, Bill. I know we sound like stupid kids talking about how in love we are, even with how fucked up this all it, but I don’t even care about that,” He smiled sadly, bittersweetly. “I love you. I’m in love with you, so,  _so_  in love, it feels ridiculous to try to say it out loud.” He sniffled, and so did Bill.

“What Richie said isn’t true,” Bill half-smiled, “I’m going to miss you the most. I’m already counting the days until you come home to me,” He admitted.

“I don’t want to leave,” Stan looked out over the quarry a final time, and then up to Bill. “This is all I’ve ever known. I- I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

Bill didn’t know what to say, but he tried anyway. “I wish you had a choice, because I know what you would choose, but I also- know what’s best for you, I think, and that’s going,” He lied, “Facing your fear.”

His entire body screamed at him to beg Stan to stay, especially half of his heart, but the knew with the other half that this was something Stan had to do. There was no choice, and no use in pleading. Bill would have to wait - and for Stanley Uris? Bill would wait until the end of time, he was sure of it.

The sun inched up further.

“It’s time to go, my love,” Bill said quietly, wiping at a tear stain on Stan’s left cheek with his thumb, and then using that hand to lean down and plant a quick kiss on Stan’s lips. He felt Stan lean into it and watched him nod as they pulled apart. Bill took his hand and lead them both back to the car, limbs feeling heavy as he began the drive back to Stan’s house, morning birds chirping nearly lulling him to sleep. Apparently all-nighters without several energy drinks and coffee breaks were rather difficult.

And maybe that’s why he didn’t notice when he dozed off and let his foot hit the gas harder than it should have, meanwhile his eyes dropped closed.

They popped back open, of course, as did Stan’s - both of them meeting each other’s in a panic - but it was too late, as Bill’s adrenaline couldn’t serve to wake him up enough to try to regain control of the car, and now they were speeding toward a large jut of land. Bill felt in his gut that they weren’t going to make it.

He felt a bit odd, as there was no flashing of his life before his eyes, only Stan looking too scared to scream in the passenger seat and the horrible realization he’d just killed the love of his life as well as himself. He was sure he looked probably the same way, and he wanted desperately to force  _I’m sorry, Stan, I love you, I’m so fucking sorry_  from his lips, but he couldn’t force them to move or his voice to make sound.

So instead, he made sure, even in the chaos and impending twist of fate, to appreciate that if these were his last moments that they were with Stan. After all, your firsts don’t really ever matter, your lasts do.

Stan Uris just happened to be his.


End file.
